Cross my heart
by SukiRin
Summary: John's life is in grave danger, and Sherlock decides to go back to his side, to protect, and to love. Continuation from end of season 2
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from BBC Sherlock series, they belong to BBC

* * *

**Prologue - about the nightmares**

John stood there by the intersection, phone in hand, he looked up; Sherlock is standing on the rooftop of the hospital.

Sherlock's voice came through the phone, shaking slightly, "Keep your eyes fixed on me." Like he was begging him.

John felt weird; this is not the usual Sherlock's voice, especially not the usual way he talks. Oh, what would Sherlock usually say? He will shoot you from head to toe with his machine gun like speaking pattern, hitting every inch of your body, digging out every single secret of yours, in his self-confident way. And just when you find that you can't handle anymore, and is about to fly into a rage, he will turn to face you with that aren't-I-brilliant smile, his gray-blue eyes expecting of a praise, John felt like he could see the tail under Sherlock's nightgown, held high and shaking.

At this time, John couldn't help but wanting to laugh, but to ensure that Sherlock won't do the same thing again, he had to try his best to keep the curve of his mouth flat, using the most serious voice he could manage to say "Sherlock, shut up."

Then John would pretend to be reading the paper, but he couldn't help himself but look at Sherlock sitting in his black sofa, muttering, "Oh, my brain, it's like a high speed engine, oh, John, how much I envy you!"

At this time, John can always feel his smile growing bigger and bigger.

How nostalgic those times are.

Nostalgic? Why is it nostalgic?

John don't understand why his brain pin pointed on the word 'nostalgic', but right now Sherlock is still on the roof. John is worried "Hey Sherlock, if you have anything to say just come down—"

Before he could finish, Sherlock like a black bird, he jumped off the rooftop without another thought.

"God!"

John couldn't believe his eyes; his cell phone fell out of his hand. He began to ran, trying to catch Sherlock the moment he reach the ground.

Then a bike crashed him to the ground.

The world turns and shakes, and when his eyes fixed on the ground once more, John couldn't believe what he is seeing. Sherlock laying on the ground helplessly, the blood under his body is so red that John felt like his retina is burning.

John wants to stand up, he want to ran over.

But he found that he couldn't move, at all, like his body was nailed to the ground.

"NO—" John couldn't believe that Sherlock would commit suicide, this must be a trick. He needs to go and check for himself. And when he reaches him, Sherlock will stand up from the ground, dusting the dirt from his coat, then say with his bored expression "John, don't worry. I'm just experimenting how high a height suicide by jumping would require."

Oh, that's right, he had already experimented about the problem of saliva of the dead, and the problem of cigarette ash, and the problem of thumbs. This time it must also be a 'problem'.

John thought about all the experiments Sherlock had committed that could scare a normal person to death, his heart finally set.

He walked forward, but the scenery changed.

It's a dark and wet underground factory, Mycroft is playing with the umbrella in his hand.

John felt weird, he was sure he was just standing in the middle of the street, and Sherlock jumped off a building for an experiment. How did he get to this factory by just taking a few steps?

"Mycroft, what's happening?" John asked.

Mycroft kept on playing with the umbrella not answering John's question, "I mean, I just saw Sherlock jump off a 5 story building, nearly scaring me to death, this time you have to tell me to stop making these jokes."

"Just?" Mycroft's voice was low.

"Yes, just, one minute ago to be exact."

"John." Mycroft looked at him with a twisted expression, "I know you are sad, but you have to accept this reality."

John couldn't understand what Mycroft was saying, "accept what?"

"Sherlock is dead," Mycroft's expression a mixture of pain and contradiction, his eyes fixed on John with a slight sign of hatred, "for you."

"No!" John retorted almost immediately. But there was a voice in his heart that said: Sherlock is already dead. John looked at Mycroft, his expression doesn't look fake, the pain of losing his beloved brother is almost blinding on the face that's always smiling, "This is not real, tell me! This is not real!"

John kneeled on the ground, hand against his chest. He doesn't need Mycroft's answer, he remembered.

Yes, his best friend Sherlock Holmes is dead. He even went to see him at the grave yard with Mrs Hudson.

* * *

John felt pain, like he was tortured by an incurable illness. He couldn't accept the fact that Sherlock died for him.

It's him, John, Sherlock's best friend, which killed him.

John couldn't accept this fact, he felt shameful, and no word can describe how much pain and sorrow he is in. Every breath he takes in this world was given to him by Sherlock. Every time he walked on the street, the glances from people seemed to say "Look, it's the John that killed his best friend."

He is very, very miserable. Tears couldn't help but fall out of his eyes.

Don't know since when, but now there is only darkness surrounding John.

Moonlights came through the window, shining on John's face, his body curled up, fists held firm, tears on his cheeks, sorrow can be felt on the lips that were held firmly closed.

Only at night can one see fragility, it's yet another night of nightmares.


	2. About right now

**A/N: **alright..first chapter, hope it will find you in a good place. please by pass the grammar mistakes I may have and be kind to me. Thank you

**Disclaimer:** non of the characters in this chapter belong to me, they belong to BBC

* * *

**Chapter one: about right now**

When John woke up the next morning, his eyes were feeling sore; when he touched them with his hands he could only feel the dryness of the corners of the eyes. Maybe it was just his illusion, but why does he feel like he was crying.

John knew that his current status is not very up to standard, sometimes when he was sitting in the sofa, staring at the empty black sofa across from him, he would find himself in a daze for the whole day. But he doesn't know how to change it. Or rather, he doesn't want to change it.

That driving force that could make him want to change is no longer there.

"John, do you have anything on the menu today?" Mrs. Hudson looked at John with worry. Oh, John had been in a state of lose ever since Sherlock's death, he was just getting better before, and now he's back to his old self. That dull look is so worrying.

"I have nothing, Mrs. Hudson." Looking at the worried look in Mrs. Hudson's eyes, John forced a smile to ensure her that he's fine.

"Then John will you have breakfast with me?" Mrs. Hudson just can't stop worrying, John is a child that doesn't like other people to worry about him, so he must have something he's hiding!

John can never refuse an invitation from the landlady that took such nice care of him. "Yes, it's my pleasure," He stood up, from the reflection of the mirror hanging on the fireplace he saw how pined he is, "Erh, can I just wash up first?"

"Of course, I'll wait for you down stairs." Looking at John's awkward expression, Mrs. Hudson went downstairs with a delighted smile on her face.

"I won't be a minute." John answered her.

* * *

John went downstairs to have breakfast with Mrs. Hudson. Across from the dining table is a small TV which one could watch when eating.

It's currently turned to Morning News. The anchor is reading out the statistics of the past half year's rising crime rate, "If this continues, I suspect it's a bright decision to move out of London."

The scene cut to a reporter interviewing a shopkeeper who was just robbed, and then it increased to four smaller shots with all four reporters interviewing a sufferer. Then the shots got smaller and more.

Staring at the screen covered with suffers of crime, John said to Mrs. Hudson in a serious tone, "Mrs. Hudson, let me accompany you when you go out."

"Oh John, I don't need your protection. I can shake the whole of England just by myself."

Mrs. Hudson felt disapproved to John's serious tone of voice. As a widow lady, how to live life safely had already became an instinct, although when Sherlock was there life had always been a little bit more exciting.

"Oh, Mrs. Turner from next door had a new tenant, he is a nice man. John, would you like to meet him?" Although being single-minded is a good thing, but it's not a good thing to keep John thinking about Sherlock all the time, Mrs. Hudson thought finding John a new partner will do him good.

"Mrs. Hudson, I really don't need a new partner, especially when he is male." John can't help but sigh at the landlady's hundred first time's suggestion; everyone thought he and Sherlock were on to something, even after Sherlock's death. If this continues, he might actually become a complete singlist. John thought helplessly, putting the last piece of egg into his mouth with just a slight bit of anger.

"Are you sure?. Come on, John. Every time I see you sitting in the sofa staring into space, I feel like you are a depressed young girl, or a poor teddy waiting for his master to take him home." Mrs. Hudson began to clean the dishes away when he saw that John had finished, whilst muttering. "Sherlock won't blame you, he will be happy to see you live a happy life. I swear, although Sherlock was a wayward and weird person, but he is a good man, especially to you, John. But you can't continue to be down like this. Just like my husband, although I hated him, but I can't deny that we once had a period of happiness."

When Mrs. Hudson felt the dreadful silence floating in the air, she finally realized that she had said the wrong thing, turning to say sorry to John, she shouldn't have poked at John's wound.

But to realize that John had already put on his coat, ready to go out.

Changing to a smile and keeping down what she had wanted to say, Mrs. Hudson said, "Be careful when you go out John."

Checking to see what he had forgotten to take, John looked up and saw Mrs. Hudson's smile full of regret, he smiled and kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek, "Mrs. Hudson, I don't blame you, trust me. Your idea is wonderful, maybe…" Knowing Mrs. Hudson's good will, but not being able to say anything to comfort her, John can only let his words muffle.

Before he had met Sherlock, he had always thought he will find a nice woman to marry. But after he had met Sherlock, he found that he doesn't know how to get himself to continue.

Sherlock died because of him after all, when he got Lestrade's message, the feelings he finally managed to sort out dropped lower than ever before.

* * *

Entering the doors of the therapist.

John had always had a good feeling about the black women that was his therapist. However this good feeling only stops to the extent when she's not trying to cure him.

"John, how's your blog recently?" The therapist asked.

"Good, it's all good." John took a deep breath, trying to make himself appear less tense, then answered.

"You wrote only about some small things again, right?" The therapist asked again. "You just wrote 'I still can't remove my guard', what does it mean?"

The therapist put down the pen she was holding, looking John in the eye and said slowly, "John, I know your best friend's death had been a huge shock for you, just like when I first told you to start a blog. A blog will help you express your feelings. Too much negative feelings kept bottled inside, even if you are a soldier, with exceptional psychological diathesis, I still have to say, you will break down." She stopped for a second and continues, "What you need is not pretend to be calm. To tell you the truth, except the first time you told me about your best friend's death, you had been calm every time you come to see me. But you tell me, are you really that calm inside?"

John opened his mouth a few times, but he didn't manage to say that 'yes'. He had always felt that the eyes that the therapist used to see him had already seen through everything, it made it hard for him to lie.

"Then, tell me, how long have you been having these nightmares?" The therapist gave up on asking John, and turned to another topic.

"You knew." John turned his sight away. That moment when the therapist asked him, John felt like the one he is facing was Sherlock. Even though Sherlock is no long there, he still felt like he's still by his side, playing with his curly black hair, using his laser like eyes, second killing everything in his way that stopped him from his case.

"It's nothing; I just haven't slept well recently. Must be the sirens at night, there's just too many of them lately."

"John," the therapist looked at him, and sighed. "Alright, John. If you don't want to talk about it, then let's change the topic, it's true that London's public security lately hadn't been good, what do you think is the cause?"

The therapist was kind hearted to change the topic.

But John was brought back into his own little world once again. Every time sirens go past 221B, it was because Lestrade had another case he couldn't solve, and then he would follow Sherlock into the darkest, randomest places of London in search of clues that would eventually solve the case. Thinking back, a smile climbed onto the corner of John's mouth.

The therapist looked at John, failing to hold off another sigh. John must be the most difficult patient she had; his guard is too high, untrusting and single-minded.

* * *

After his session with the therapist, John looked at his watch, it's only 1pm.

Today's London is a beautiful sunny day. The afternoon sun danced, making the street seem more alive than usual.

John heard the two women that walked past him talking about where to shop later, a young boy jumped around using the streets as his playground. The café beside filled with occasional laughter from people enjoying their food. A punk looking teenager skipped to the corner, shaking a bottle of red paint, he painted a huge letter 'M'.

John shook his head at this uncivilized behavior, once again remembering that time when they were following the case of the Blind Banker, where the community support worker thought he was an enthusiast of wall paintings

Sherlock always like to create troubles for other people, a whole series of them.

Walking around on the street, John felt lost; he finally decided to buy some flowers at the florist, caught a cab and told the driver to go to the cemetery. He wanted to go talk to Sherlock just for a while.

Getting off. Because of the rain a couple days ago, the whole cemetery is still surrounded by the smell of soil.

Taking a deep breath, John walked onto the grass. Finding Sherlock's gravestone was a breeze. He left the flowers by the gravestone and started dusting the stone very clearly.

John crouched in front of the gravestone; he finally started talking after a long silence, "I listened to the recording, yes. Lestrade thought it was necessary for me, so one day he came over, and told me to listen to the recording. I was surprised, Sherlock."

"Sherlock, I'm angry. For real! The first time I came to see you, I had already said I'm angry, very angry. You jumped off that building with the reason 'for me' is utterly stupid."

"I'm a soldier, Sherlock. I'm not afraid of any ANY threats to my life. You shouldn't have…"

John felt that he couldn't continue.

"You shouldn't have died for me. I can't accept this. I know you will definitely hit back at me, telling me this is all my misconception. But this misconception is really my truest feelings, Sherlock."

"This is the feeling of guilt."

John buried his face inside his palms, he sobbed silently.

The cemetery is a place full of sadness, if people dwelled in the sorrow, they will never be able to walk out of its control.

When John realized, he discovered that he's legs are already numb from the crouch. He looked at this watch, it's nearly 6pm. Not wanting to make Mrs. Hudson worry, John jogged to the main road and caught a cab.

* * *

When he finally got back to 221B, he heard Mrs. Hudson's delighted laughter.

What happened? John thought, Mrs. Hudson hadn't had much happy times lately.

He opened the door, and traced the laughters to the first floor kitchen.

He saw a man standing with his back to him.

He's tall, with black curly hair, his laughters are deep, and he's wearing a nicely fitted black suit.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please review~~ m(_ _)m


	3. About a partner

**Chapter 2: about a partner**

Tall, curly black hair, this man in a black fitted suit, standing with his back facing John is talking happily with Mrs. Hudson, he had a typical London accent, when Mrs. Hudson made him laugh, his deep laughter arose from the abdomen.

John doesn't know why he could feel a tiny jump of joy.

Mrs. Hudson saw John, calling to him warmly, "John, you are back. Let me introduce to you, this is Mrs. Turner's new tenant, oh, the one I was talking about this morning."

It had been a while since Mrs. Hudson was this happy; she made the introduction in high spirits.

It's Mrs. Turner's new tenant, John thought while pulling up a polite smile. When the man turned around to hold out his hand, John held out his hand for a quick shook in return.

"John Waston."

"Joan Trim."

When John saw Joan's face, the rising joy within him turned into a heavy stone crushing his heart to a new depth.

Joan, this man who was introduced to him by Mrs. Hudson, he had a pair of green eyes, with a slight sign of mix-blood, but most importantly, Joan is a man who will be praised for his beauty by anyone, and he's outgoing. From the moment John walked into the house he would hear the bursts of laughter from him because of Mrs. Hudson's jokes.

It's a man that's completely different to Sherlock.

It's not Sherlock, this thought passed John's head in a flash.

Even John couldn't believe that he's still holding onto the thought that people could come back to life. John! You are a doctor, and a soldier! How can you let yourself have such weak thoughts!

Pretending to be listening to Mrs. Hudson and Joan's conversation, John tried his best to keep down the disappointment that kept on arising to the surface, then he began to try to join in to their conversation.

From their chat, to his surprise John discovered that Mrs. Turner's tenant is also an army doctor just like himself.

"Oh, I couldn't believe we are both army doctors." It was rare for John to meet someone working in the same field as him; he finally showed some positive emotions.

Joan sitting opposite him also made a surprised expression, "Oh, yes. This must be a chance in a million. Yes, I was never good at maths."

"Don't worry about maths, love, it's good luck that you two can meet." Mrs. Hudson added from the side.

"Yes." John was never very talkative; he can only nod to agree.

Mrs. Hudson told John, "He's such a nice man. I was just complaining to Mrs. Turner that the kitchen light was broken and I never got the chance to change it, Joan heard us and he volunteered to come and fix it for me."

John was surprised, "Mrs. Hudson, why didn't you tell me the kitchen light was broken."

"My child, you hadn't been very you in the past few days, I'm too worried that you will fall off the chair when you are changing my light bulb, that's not what I want to see."

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Hudson." John apologized very sincerely. He knew he had been quite a problem lately, he never thought it will affect Mrs. Hudson, he felt a bit guilty.

"Oh, everyone had downtimes." Mrs. Hudson waved her hand with a smile, not caring at all. "It like the times when London rains I always feel down, but sadly London's rainy days is always longer than its sunny times. As a result I always end up doing stupid things on rainy days."

"Haha, Mrs. Hudson you are such a humorous person." Joan heard what Mrs. Hudson said to try to cheer John up; he couldn't help but laugh, "You must be the most humorous lady I have met."

"Thank you for the praise." Mrs. Hudson got up from the chair and curtsied.

Joan caught the moment, and kissed Mrs. Hudson's hand as a return salute. "Is also the most beautiful lady on Baker Street. If I don't owe Mrs. Turner any rent, I will say the most beautiful lady in England."

"Oh, haha, how sweet you are." Mrs. Hudson was flustered at Joan's praise.

John held up his tea cup and said, "Oh yes, if time could go back 20 years, I will choose Mrs. Hudson as a life long partner without a second thought."

Joan: "It's not late now, Mr. Waston."

John: "No no no, Mr. Trim was in front of me, I couldn't take away your love by force."

Joan: "Ha, you are jealous."

Mrs. Hudson however said sadly, "Oh I'm very sorry, I had already decided to live the rest of my life along."

John and Joan both replied, "Oh, Mrs. Hudson you are so cruel."

Mrs. Hudson laughed while rubbing her sore stomach, "Bad boys, I can't keep on laughing like this, you guys just met and you already reached a secret agreement?"

"Maybe it's because both our names start with 'J'?" Joan pulled a serious face, but his green eyes clearly showed mischief. "Mr. Waston, please call me Joan, for our late meeting."

"Call me John, for our late meeting." John in return also pulled a straight face.

The two people shook hands once more.

Mrs. Hudson on the other hand laughed so much that her eyes were tearing.

"I heard John, you were feeling down lately?" Putting his humors behind, Joan changed to a thoughtful face, changing the topic.

When he heard Joan's start, John had a bad feeling, and now, he was right…

"Is it because you can't find a job?"

Taking back his previous thought, John thought to himself maybe he was too sensitive? What happened between him and Sherlock, no he should say Sherlock's death shouldn't be known by the whole of England.

"No, I just went out for a walk and came back a bit late." John quickly thought up a reasonable explanation.

Joan pulled a huge smile after he heard John's answer, he patted John's back and said, "Don't be embarrassed, John. Not having a job is not a shame. Who would come home this late except those without a job?"

John who was just drinking, choked from Joan's encouraging pat on the back, "Cough cough, it's really not."

However even Mrs. Hudson thought Joan was right, she seemed worried, "John, it's okay. You don't have to worry about paying rent, don't force yourself."

"Cough cough, it's really not that. Mrs. Cough, Hudson, cough." Patting his chest, John tries to explain, but it was hard for him to admit that he went to see Sherlock, all he can do is repeat, "It's really not that."

"I know you are desperate for a job, but you don't have to react this violently, John." Although they only met for half an hour, Joan had already discovered John's good old personality, enjoying with a cup of tea in hand John's awkward moment where he wants to explain but struggles to find the right words to do so.

"Joan, do you have any solutions?" Mrs. Hudson at last turned her gaze towards Joan, this young man who had changed her light bulb for her and talked to her for the whole afternoon, plus his looks are magnificent, he had already became a trustable person in Mrs. Hudson's heart.

"Mrs. Hudson there is no need to worry, I do in fact know of a job that will suit John perfectly." Joan of course didn't disappoint Mrs. Hudson.

"I work at St Mary's Hospital (Mrs. Hudson: that's a big hospital), the hospital is currently running low on surgeons, John, I still you should give it a try. With your record you will have no problem getting the job at all."

"St Mary's, you are putting too much confidence in me." John laughed bitterly, he thought this hospital's standard is too high for him; he is just an army doctor after all.

"Don't say that, John, I think you are great." Mrs. Hudson gave John the essential encouragement just at the right time.

"Then," Putting down the tea cup, Joan started off his sentence like he's about to make a life decision, "John, give me a copy of your CV, I'll pass it on to the director, I'm quite close to him, it should be fine."

"Oh Joan, you are such a nice man." Mrs. Hudson showed maybe just a bit too much excitement at Joan's suggestion, like John is already a doctor at St. Mary's. She urged John to get a CV for Joan.

But the problem is John doesn't have any form of CV on him, he was never intended to – for Christ's sake – go look for a job today. But looking into the pair of expecting eyes that's Mrs. Hudson, John can only say, "Urh, they took my CV, I'll go upstairs and see if I have any spare." Then John ran upstairs with the fastest speed he can manage. Laughters rose behind him, be it Mrs. Hudson's or Joan's, John chose to ignore them all.

God, job hunting, since when had he last done that? John tried his best to look for a surviving CV in the messy upstairs living room, and couldn't stop muttering to himself along the way.

John vaguely remembered that he tried to look for a job when he first moved into 221B. However, he later discovered that it's not such a smart idea when Sherlock kept on dragging him out to solve random cases and he often end up skipping his work. Even if the owner of the clinic was her ex girlfriend, it's hard to cover this fact up.

John ended up only working part time instead of trying to find a place to work as a full time doctor. His principal work had always been Sherlock's helper or his blogger.

At last he found a presentable copy of his CV in an unknown corner of the room, John let out a long sigh, and ran downstairs.

"Then just wait for my good news." Joan, after taking John's CV off him, winked at him.

He then bid farewell to Mrs. Hudson. Turning around, his long black coat created a beautiful curve, finally taking his leave after waving to John and Mrs. Hudson once again.

* * *

Joan acted very fast, noon the next day, John was sitting in his sofa reading the news. Talking about working last night, John came to a conclusion that he shouldn't continue being apathetic, he need to find a job to at least maintain normal everyday life. So now he is trying to find an appropriate job vacancy in the papers.

At this moment, footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Looking up, John saw a very excited Mrs. Hudson running up the stairs, "Oh John, I just got a call from Joan, he told you to go to St. Mary's for an interview this afternoon at 3.

"Me?" John pointed at himself, doubting.

"Yes, you, John. An interview means good news, come on, dress yourself. You need to be positive for the interview." Mrs. Hudson at this moment is looking through John's wardrobe choosing John's interview suit or him.

John didn't think that Joan would really be able to do it, but no matter the result today, John reckons he needs to return the favor.

John, supporting his head with his hand, looked at Mrs. Hudson's happy face, giving a few comments at Mrs. Hudson's choice of closing every so often, but still he refused to move from his sofa.

In the end, Mrs. Hudson protested with a "This is your interview, I'm not taking care of it!", John finally got out of the sofa.

John at the end only put on his usual jacket and is now standing outside St. Mary's hospital, looking at his watch; it's now 2:45PM, 15 minutes until the interview.

Mrs. Hudson told him many times that Joan would be waiting for him by the doors. But he's been standing here for nearly ten minutes.

John saw a person running out of the hospital doors in the next 5 minutes, it's Joan. "I'm really sorry, John. I got interrupted by a nurse."

"Oh, the time is not great, our directors hates to be late." Looking at the time on his phone, Joan grabbed John and started to run, taking the lift, getting out, turning again and again, John's head failed to remember the route, he was only able to notice that the surroundings got quieter and quieter.

Finally Joan stopped in front of a pair of closed doors, "It's here. John, good luck!" After that, he pushed John through the double doors without waiting for John to get ready.

John wanted to say wait, but he was only able to catch a glimpse of good luck before the doors closed.

At the end of the office, the director looked up from his pile of paperwork, staring at John.

"Dr. Watson? Please take a seat." The director took out John's CV and started to ask questions.

John pulled out a chair across from the director and took a seat.

"You are an army doctor?"

"Yes."

"May I ask, why did you come back?"

"I got injured."

"Oh, and now?"

"It's fine now. Urh, all fine now, I can work anytime."

"Oh, then, Dr. Watson, I'm pleased to tell you, you are hired. But you need to know that St. Mary's is a big hospital, from any aspect you want to see it. Even if we do have Joan's guarantee, you have to start as an interne, is that okay with you?"

John was a bit stunned at this fast occurrence of events, he nodded, "It's fine, I don't mind starting as an interne, St. Mary's is a good hospital, even just as an interne, I'm sure I will be able to learn a lot."

"Dr. Trim will show you around."

The whole interview took less than 5 minutes, and then John was invited out of the director's office.

"How was it?" Leaning on the wall, Joan waited outside for John with a smile; the said person however is still stunned by the progress.

"Come on, let's get the paperwork done." Holding John's shoulder, Joan started turning corners once more.

In a haze, John became an interne at St. Mary's hospital.

Standing outside the hospital doors, John still felt unbelievable.

"Congratulations." Counting form yesterday, Joan held out his hand for the third time.

"Thank you, then should we have dinner together?" John shook hands with the Joan too for the third time.

Joan's lips curved into a beautiful curve after hearing John's invitation, "John, you have to be mentally prepared that I will exploit you."

Looking at this smile, John felt so familiar, like he's seen it before. He then however denied himself, maybe it's just his mind over thinking again.

* * *

**A/N**：enjoy, and please R&R


	4. About the explosion

**Chapter 3: about the explosion**

Thursday morning is fated to be a bewildered one.

John felted like he hadn't even closed his eyes for over ten minutes, but is already been told that it's time to get out of bed.

Mrs. Hudson was very excited when she heard that John had gotten himself a job, very excited. She reckoned this must be the best news she had heard in the last few months. She decided that tomorrow morning she will supervise John, so John could be his best self going to his first day of work, that way Mrs. Turner will not be starting with "Poor John" the next time they have afternoon tea together like she always did in the past.

Mrs. Hudson's tenants must be the best of the best, whether it is the old Sherlock or the John now.

Her thoughts stopped there, Mrs. Hudson was a little angry. When Sherlock was famous, everyone was so nice and welcoming to her, and after Sherlock's suicide people became colder, they even started to be a bit bitterly sarcastic.

I Mrs. Hudson finally understood, some people's good intentions are as unreliable as London's weather, maybe even worth.

So full of anger, Mrs. Hudson got up even earlier than usual today, which of course caused more pain for John.

Since he started living with Sherlock, he had always woken up when he wanted to.

The days when he had to wake up early had left John long ago, but it's very seeable that from now on he had to wake up early every day.

John lay with his eyes closed on his bed, fighting with his inner self, he doesn't know what time it is, he doesn't want to open his eyes to see the time.

But there are two things John is sure.

One: It's not yet time to get up. He specially set up his alarm last night. And the probability that the alarm clock is broken is too small.

Two: Mrs. Hudson has enough patience to wait until he gets up

Not to John's surprise, the sound of footsteps echoed by the staircase, Mrs. Hudson's energetic voice is coming closer and closer. "John, wakey wakey!"

Mrs. Hudson tip toed to the door, pushing it open little by little, "John, wakey wakey~~~" Looking inside, she saw John looking back at her with helpless eyes.

Seeing that John had already woken up, Mrs. Hudson pulled the door fully open, looking at this good boy for waking up on time and said, "Oh, John you are already up, then go take a shower, and make yourself all handsome!"

Then before John could protest, she pushed him into the bathroom, "I used to always take showers on the morning of my first day at work. Alright, get in."

With a twist of the hand, she locked the bathroom door, then humming an unknown tune, she went downstairs to prepare John's breakfast.

* * *

John struggle to find a word to describe his current feelings. He didn't understand, how did he just get pushed into the bathroom by Mrs. Hudson? He reached out to open the door to discover that it is locked.

"Oh God!" With no other way out, John gave in and turned on the shower. "It's only a shower, won't kill me."

Fog quickly took over the whole room, feeling dizzy, John seemed to have forgotten something, very important.

* * *

Kitchen

Mrs. Hudson humming her tune, placed her breakfast full of love on the table.

Looking up on the clock, it's already eight o'clock. How come she didn't see John coming down, Mrs. Hudson felt quite weird. John was always quick with his showers, but it's already been over an hour.

Mrs. Hudson felt she has the need to go check on him, placing an ear on the bathroom door, there is no water running. So she knocked, "John, are you done? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Seconds later, John's voice came from inside the door, "Mrs. Hudson, let me out!"

John remembered what he had forgotten after he finished the shower; Mrs. Hudson had locked the door! After a few attempts at getting her attention and failing, John could only place his dressing gown on the edge of the bath tub and carefully sit on it. This is the only 'dry' place he could find in this bathroom.

Outside Mrs. Hudson gasped with surprise, and tried her best to keep down the scream; Mrs. Hudson couldn't believe she made such a mistake.

"Oh, John. I am so sorry." Mrs. Hudson followed behind John, apologizing.

Keeping his trademark nice-man smile, John said to Mrs. Hudson, "Mrs. Hudson I won't blame you for such a little thing. Now is this my breakfast?"

John pointed at the maybe too fancy a plate of breakfast, trying to change the topic.

"Oh Yes, I made it especially for you." handing the cutleries over to John, Mrs. Hudson continued: "This is the energy breakfast I used to prepare for myself before I go to work, it will keep you up for the whole day."

The plate is filled with bacons, sausages, and a small piece of roast, all meat breakfast.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't there any vegetables, like corn salad or something similar?" Eating so much meat in the morning, even if John is not a doctor, he knows it's not good for the body.

"John, veges will not give you enough energy, you are a doctor, it's a very energy demanding job!"

As she said so, she got more meat out of the pot, and placed it on the table.

Not wanting to disappoint Mrs. Hudson, John started his mission to finish all the meat on the plate.

Mrs. Hudson sitting across the table, held her chin in one hand, smiling at John, "Looking at you like this John, you are like my child."

John replied after he swallowed the meat still in his mouth, "Having a mother like Mrs. Hudson, I will be very happy."

However, Mrs. Hudson looked sad upon hearing this, she moved her eyes off John.

John could only pretend that he had put all his attention into eating breakfast. About Mrs. Hudson, he only heard something once from Sherlock, a woman needing someone else to ensure her husband's death sentence, the reason behind it must be a very tragic one.

John thought to himself.

Fighting with the last piece of meat in the place, John felt that although Mrs. Hudson still claims that she is very young, her taste had already moved towards one of an old lady, the meat she cooked are tasteless and soft. How could bacon feel like cheese?

John felt he was forced to give in to a lot of things since he got up this morning.

"John, what time are you going to work?" Mrs. Hudson's eyes fell on the clock, suddenly asking John.

"Nine, they said on my first day I don't ––" feeling Mrs. Hudson's question was quite absurd, so John also looked at the clock, and the time shocked him.

How did it go from 8 to 9 without him knowing? Even Sherlock won't do such an absurd thing!

"God sake!" Not having another heart to care about the rest of breakfast, John threw down his cutlery, ran upstairs and started to change.

That's right, because of the shower, John's still in his night gown.

He changed in a hurry and was going to run out just like that, Mrs. Hudson stopped him, "John, your wallet."

He turned around to take his wallet.

Once again going to run out, Mrs. Hudson stopped him for the second time, "John, your cell phone!"

This time John decided not to go back, "No, not taking it today. See you tonight Mrs. Hudson."

Pulling open 221B's front door, John held out his hand for a cab, not looking at his surroundings he crashed into someone.

"Sorry." John said a quick sorry as he was in a hurry to get in the cab that just stopped in front of him.

Suddenly, the person he crashed in to grabbed hold of John.

John sighed, it seemed like he crashed into a very annoying person.

Turning around, he was faced with a huge smile, and this person John is very familiar of.

"Joan, it's you?" John was a little surprised. "It's already this time, and you are not at work?"

Joan shrugged, saying, "Something good is going to happen today, no one will care."

Something good? John couldn't understand Joan's mind.

The two of them got in the cad, and drove towards St. Mary's hospital.

The good thing is, today's traffic was rather good, and once they get through Wood Street East they will be there.

John looked at his watch, maybe this won't take even ten minutes.

Wood Street East is filled with high class shops, and all kinds of banks.

The cab was stopped by a red light.

"Boom…" scary sounds like the crackers the Chinese like to light off during their new years.

The branch of Bank of Barclays on Wood Street East went off in flames along with the explosion.

The shops on either sides weren't very lucky, along with the pedestrians walking past were all affected by the explosion.

In barely a second, the old busy street had suddenly turned in a living hell.

Many people lay injured on the ground.

John without a second thought jumped off of the cab and ran towards the explosion scene. He thought that as a doctor he needed to do something.

The pedestrians affected by the explosion, John was able to check them one by one, stopping the bleeding and applying some simple first aid, the worst was only a slight concussion. Although the shops were badly affected, no one was hurt.

Thus John decided to go into the bank to check. But Joan stopped him. "John, don't go, it will be dangerous."

"At this time I don't care about danger." John escaped Joan's hold, and disappeared in the heavy smoke.

A smirk appeared on Joan's face; he took out his phone and quickly dialed a number.

* * *

The old palace like bank is so demolished that it's worth than an abandoned factory.

Smoke occupied every corner and every free space it can find, John covered his nose with his sleeve, using his other free hand as a fan, hoping to make out a clear view.

Broken glass cracked under his feet, occasionally he would step on a piece of something he doesn't want to probe into.

But thank God they are not pieces of human meat.

It was what John had originally thought, and not anymore. He finally found the workers, but they don't need his help anymore.

They are all dead.

All the people seemed to have been tied to a pillar, but unluckily when the explosion occurred, the pole collapsed and no one was spared.

The bank's main hall had four supporting pillars, John discovered that to every pillar there were people tied to it.

What about the survivors? John kept on scanning the hall for any lucky survivors.

He was going to walk deeper into the bank, but something red on the wall caught his eye. John knew it wasn't the same red as blood, it's too bright, he walked toward it to inspect.

But 'boom' once again, following this sound, John's first reflex was to rolled to the corner, only to discover the explosion wasn't in the hall he is in.

No it can't be – a very bad feeling arose in John's mind.

He ran out, and what he saw was that the Bank of Scotland is covered in black smoke; flames quickly expanded to the surrounding shops, all the workers ran from their shop screaming. More explosions came from inside this bank.

John couldn't believe his eyes. Another explosion!

Because of the two explosions, the traffic on the old orderly street was in chaos. The people on the streets are cautious with the way they walk, there are just too many banks on this street, what will they do if there is another explosion?

Plus the people that were in the other banks all ran out, Wood Street East is suddenly put in complete chaos.

John finally thought to call 999. But the moment he reached into his pocket, he remembered he left his phone at Baker Street. "Jesus!" John swore to himself.

Right this moment, Joan walked up behind John, patting his shoulder, shaking his phone, as if asking for praise, "I already called the police, and the ambulance."

He then took out two employee's cards, giving one to John, "Before the ambulance gets here, let's take the frontline for a while."

Then Joan started to direct the people to make a space, and placed the innocent bystanders wounded from the air current created by the explosion on the ground.

The sirens of the ambulances slowly became clear, and people quickly were able to see the ambulances raging towards them.

However, just before the ambulance could get to them, the explosion – like it feel the ambulance getting closer – went off again, the huge current throw one of the ambulances over. Luckily the one behind it was not affected.

With this, the situation became even more chaotic.

The police cars were stopped by the chaotic crowd, not even able to move an inch.

"John, don't you reckon this is like a game, the banks are like traps, and the people inside are like treasures. It's not that easy to move the treasures onto the cars."

Whipping off the dirt on his forehead, Joan joked with John after moving the last wounded onto the ambulance.

John was unexpectedly silent. He doesn't like this, even if he is a soldier, he found it hard to adjust.

"Come on, John. Don't be so mute." Joan pushed John, hinting him to get in the ambulance, "it's going to be busy at the hospital."

John listened this time and quickly got into the ambulance.

Due to St. Mary's Hospital being the closest hospital to the scene, like Joan said, it will be very busy.

John felt his first day at work is a bit too chaotic, he struggles to withstand it.

* * *

221B Baker Street

Mrs. Hudson held her knitting needles and sat in her rocking chair, the television is playing morning news.

The journalist stood in front of the Bank of Barclays that was hit by the explosion this morning, reporting with a very serious voice, "Everybody, this is one of the banks that was hit by the explosion on Wood Street East about half an hour ago. We can see that its old majestic look is nowhere to be seen. However this is not the only bank that was victim to the explosion on Wood Street East, there are more further down…"

Looking at the news, Mrs. Hudson remembered John have to go past Wood Street East to get to work, "I hope John is not affected by it."

"*Sigh*, the days are hard to pass, too many explosions, and the government is useless at solving it, they are just wasting the tax payers' money. They were saying people shouldn't go out alone, not they should just stay inside." Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but chattered off.

She was too focused so that she didn't notice the screen of John's phone lit up.

"I'll be back.

Ps: Please get me some dumplings.

S."

* * *

**A/N: **alright, sorry for the long wait, here is another chapter, Sherlock is coming back! Soon! Please R&R!


	5. About good bye

**Chapter 4: about good bye**

"John, hold him down." Dr. Smith commanded his new practice doctor Dr. Waston to hold down the patient that kept on screaming 'I'm going to die' whilst waving his arms around, using John's two bare hands.

Following the ambulance to St Mary's hospital, the lobby is already in chaos. Taking all the patients down from the ambulance with other people, John finally realized that this is his first day at work, and he doesn't know where to go.

Right at this time, he saw a lady in the lobby directing the patients, John walked up to her, asking "I'm sorry, it's my first day here, I don't…"

"Dr. Waston, report to Dr. Smith in ER." The female doctor directing in the lobby is a very rare beauty, but her expressions are scarce. Staring at the form in her hand, she occasionally looked up to direct the patients.

None of her attention was given to John.

John wasn't even able to get one full sentence out before Dr. Jones told him what he needed to know.

John's plan of making a conversation was killed before it could bud, he was a bit shocked. What a different woman, the clean orderly way she behaves, maybe only the Holmes brothers are able to compare.

He was shocked at the comparison he made within his mind, but John remembered this Dr. Jones.

Then he went to the ER looking for Dr. Smith, and this doctor is trying to treat the patients who were injured in the chain explosion, but this patient screams like no one before every time the doctor tries to touch his wound.

God above, this patient only had a small fragment in his leg, it just need to be taken out and the wound dressed up.

But right this moment, this patient behaved like someone is going to murder him.

Dr. Smith is very angry, there are at least 20 people outside waiting to be treated, and every single one of them is worse than this one. Dr. Smith looked despised at this person whose arm is larger than the nurse's thigh, and he can't handle pain?

John walked in at the right time, and Dr. Smith decided to use him.

"Dr. Waston?" Dr. Smith asked.

John nodded, and asked "What do you need me to do?" Everyone present looked at John; John felt strange, especially the expression on the nurses that's clearly saying help!

"Dr. Waston, can I call you John? John go keep him down, firmly." He pointed at the patient lying on the bed.

Although he doesn't understand why Dr. Smith want to do this, but John followed his command anyway. As a soldier, John's strength is not small, although he looks very frail and people tend to look down on him because of this.

So when Dr. Smith started to clean the patient's wound, he was prepared to be kicked, but to his surprise, even when the patient screamed like hell is coming for him, John was still holding him down very firmly, although his expression is not very good.

Having a higher than 140 decibel, equal to the volume of a jet plane taking off near John's ears. John felt like his brain is getting fried by the jet plane. It's enough for him to try not to look ferocious.

The good thing is Dr. Smith was quick with his hands, it wasn't long before he signaled to John that he could let go.

Right at the moment John let go of his hands, the patient finally screamed to his own limit, and lost consciousness on the bed.

"Next!" Dr. Smith told the nurse to get this annoying patient out of the room. Then he started to treat the next patient.

Just like this, one after one, John looked at the nurse standing at the door, feeling like she could bring in unlimited number of patients from out that door.

He was very grateful of Mrs. Hudson's breakfast.

At lunch break, Dr. Smith patted John's back, complimenting him as a rare 'labour force'.

What an odd compliment, John felt this could be put right behind Sherlock's "maybe you can't shine yourself, but as the transmitter of light, you have no equal."

If Sherlock is here, maybe the chain explosion case is already solved.

Subconsciously he reached into his pocket for his phone, John swore once again to Jesus, he struggles to remember the fact that he forgot to bring his phone with him today.

* * *

After lunch break.

Afternoon time, Dr. Smith introduced to John the basic situation of the ER. Normally doctors take eight hour shifts, "Once your eight hours is up, check in at the service desk around the corner, and you can go." Dr. Smith pointed at the general direction, "The nurse will tell you your next shift. We need people here 24/7, so working extra shifts is a regular thing. You should be glad you came to me, complicated patients usually don't come here; neither do the ones with severe injuries. So compared to the others, our work load is manageable. Now you can go take your shift."

Dr. Smith pushed John into one of the rooms, the sign had Dr. Smith's name written on it. "I'm going to take a break; you can continue to strive young man." He disappeared almost straight away.

Then a young nurse appeared at the door, blonde, with the standard nurse smile, holding a pile of case files in her arms. "Dr. Waston?"

"Ugh, yes."

"Can I call the patients in?"

"Ugh, yes."

The blonde nurse walked in to the room with the files and placed them on the desk, "these are the case files of the patients you are going to see soon. Once you finish one person, please press the red button next to the computer." The blonde nurse pointed at a small red button hidden in the shadow of the computer.

"Alright, I understand."

John started his shift just like that.

Office worker whose shoulder dislocated for no reason, a primary student who faints every time she catches a cold, a housewife who gets fevers no matter what fruit she eats, a salesman who wounded his leg because of a dog, a supermarket clerk who got hit by a cargo…

All the patients have some kind of reason to come to the ER.

John treated every single one of them, answering their queries, telling them to take their medicine on time, and with some cases that he couldn't be sure of, telling them to go have a checkup.

Time always pass very quickly, when John finished all the files on his desk, the clock on the wall point to 5pm.

John sat there for a while, writing down his thoughts from today's work, he saw that the nurse is not taking any more patients in, he thought maybe it's time for him to change shift.

Dr. Smith walked in right at this time, surprised that John is still here, "John, why are you still here?"

"I can go?" John is too unfamiliar with this hospital, even with Dr. Smith's introduction.

"Of course, go check in with the nurse at the service desk, oh, show them your pass." Dr. Smith sat down at where John was sitting, and started to type into the computer.

John walked himself to the service desk, handed over his work pass, and considered what he need to say, "Um, I think can I maybe…go."

"Of course, Dr. Waston. Please come take over Dr. Smith's shift tomorrow morning at 6. I'm the head nurse of ER Mabel Green, you can call me Mabel." The head nurse is a traditional English lady, she introduced herself to John.

"Alright, Ms. Mabel. Um, then I'll see you tomorrow morning."

John went to get changed in the changing room, and walked into Joan. That guy is still lively, without a trace of tiredness from a day's work, he said hello to John. "Oh, John, I heard you went to work under Dr. Smith, such bad luck, it's going to get harder later. Today is only a start."

John had no strength to talk to the lively Joan, all he wants to do now is to get home, he want a hot bath and food.

After biding Joan good bye, John went to that Chinese restaurant and brought some dumplings for supper tonight.

When he arrived at 221B, he was surprised that the light upstairs is on.

Mrs. Hudson's upstairs? A flick of uncertainty flew past.

He searched for his keys to open the door, and saw Mrs. Hudson holding a dinner plate, filled with all sorts of sweets, "Mrs. Husdon, are you preparing afternoon tea?" John felt that afternoon tea at this time is not a bright idea.

Also he discovered that Mrs. Hudson had changed, she's not wearing the same one as this morning when he left. So John asked again, "Mrs. Hudson why did you change?"

But Mrs. Hudson is looking to happy, she seemed like she want to clap to celebrate something with John, but she was holding a plate, so she pushed John with her elbows, telling him to go upstairs, "Oh, John, you will not believe your eyes, come on, go up."

John doesn't understand what's so abnormal upstairs that he will not believe his eyes.

He looked up to the door upstairs, it's closed. But he can somewhat make out the sound of a violin, playing "Don't you forget."

John was scared to here that song in the times right after Sherlock's death, the female voice repeatedly sang: "Don't you forget about me, don't you forget about me. We were soft and young, in a world of innocence. Don't you forget about me, don't you forget all of our dreams. Now you've gone away, only emptiness remains."

The conversation between the boy and girl, John sometimes felt like it's talking about him and Sherlock, even promises can't fight with reality, so farewell became the final ending.

John hoped that even in the world of the dead, whilst chasing after the truth, Sherlock will still remember that in the human world there is a friend who is thinking about him.

That's why he kept on repeating in front of his grave, "Don't you forget about me."

However this is not a song suitable for the violin, but obviously the person playing this song upstairs is very skillful; the song is filled with vicissitudes of time.

John could feel his legs starting to shake as he walked up the stairs; Mrs. Hudson's eyes filled with tears while she smiled seem to be a very good indication.

John opened the second story door as his hand shook uncontrollably, under Mrs. Hudson's encouragement.

A man dressed in dark blue silk dressing gown, with curly black hair, stood with his back towards John in front of the window, is playing the violin.

"Oh, Joan. When did you get back? I thought you said you have a surgery to do" John tried to be calm, talking to the person standing by the window.

From the back, Joan resembles Sherlock a lot. But John thought he won't fall for it again.

Sherlock of course plays the violin, but obviously don't have such great skill, normally the only reason he plays the violin is because a high class case had fallen into his hands.

So – "Joan, can you stop this joke now?"

John is getting angry.

Mrs. Hudson coming up with her plate of sweets looked at John weirdly, "John, what madness are you talking about, that's not Joan, I don't believe you can't tell who he is."

The hidden message in Mrs. Hudson's words had already pointed out the absolute truth.

But John still couldn't believe it, don't want to believe it.

The person playing the violin turned around; to John he showed his trademark arrogant smile, "Hello! John."

At this moment, like Mrs. Hudson had said, John couldn't believe his own eyes, he couldn't believe that the person standing right in front of him is real.

Jesus! It's Sherlock!

John is screaming inside!

John still remembered the first time he went to the cemetery for Sherlock, he said to the gravestone.

"Please, there's one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be…dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

Although John's inside is in chaos, but he still tried to keep a straight face, picking up the paper bag that fell to the floor out of shock a few moments ago.

Sherlock put down his violin, winked his nose and inhaled heavily, then said cheerfully, "Oh, John, I can't believe you brought dumplings back. You know when I found out you didn't take your phone with you, I was ready to put up with Mrs. Hudson's scorns. (Mrs. Hudson: what do you mean by put up! Sherlock the first thing you do when you come back is belittling my cooking, the great Mrs. Hudson made cookies for you, you should eat them with appreciation, you know I'm not your housekeeper, I'm just a landlady!)

Sherlock was not going to ask permission of the owner of the dumplings, he opened the bag and started to dig into them.

John saw that the black sofa welcomed back his owner, and it's not empty anymore opposite him, for some reason he felt safe.

His stomach grumbled, John sadly could only grab the forgotten scorns, and used them to fill his empty stomach.

And Mrs. Hudson? She went downstairs a long time ago.

Suddenly, all that's left in the upstairs lounge is the sound of eating.

* * *

After Sherlock finished his dumplings, he looked at John, narrowed his eyes, and with a voice filled with injustice said, "Come on, John. Don't be a little girl, and stop pretending. I already knew, you hand bowl into a fist when you are nervous. Although you try to cover it by holding a piece of scorn, and a tea cup in your hands, but that tiny shake already told me you are not calm at all. And the way you sit, John. As a bright soldier, I need to point out that your conditional reflex so easily seen through; you sit like a soldier whenever you are nervous. And your eyes, you looked through every single corner in this room, except me. And most importantly –" Sherlock suddenly stood up from his sofa, putting his face in front of John, very closely, so close that John could feel Sherlock's breath on his face. His grey eyes locked on John's face, "most importantly, why are you afraid of looking at me?"

Sherlock afterwards showed an "of course" look, "are you not happy that I came back?" but suddenly with a tiny hint of bewilderment, "is it because of that Joan so you are not happy?"

John signed, putting down the tea cup and the unfinished scorn back into the plate; he inhaled slowly, trying to calm his mood.

He looked at Sherlock, "First of all, it has nothing to do with Joan. Secondly, the reason I'm not happy is obvious, Sherlock."

"Obvious? Where is it obvious!" Sherlock scratched his head out of frustration, and started to walk in circles. "The way Mrs. Hudson behaved, that's obvious. Oh, say it, what's your relationship with Joan! My Blogger! In the times that I left, someone is trying to steal My Blogger!"

Sherlock thought that although John brought dumplings back for him out of consonance, it's not enough to calm his anger, his anger is going wild.

"The smell of sterile water, don't need to guess, it must be the hospital. I texted you around 10am, you didn't reply, you must be out. Oh, visiting a patient, don't need to be out so early. So that Joan is not ill. Mrs. Hudson said you found a job, hmm, job, sterile water, and you are an army doctor, ha, and even with my toes I can say for sure it's a hospital job. Oh, which hospital, it's only 6pm, you can come back this early, and I saw your work pass in your pocket, St.M, oh, so obvious, St. Mary's hospital, yes, so that Joan is your colleague. It's not me John, whoever calls himself Joan, 10% are migrants, 30% are low class workers, 20% are fake names, and the last 40% aren't likely to have any good endings, you want to hear? And he is obviously male, I still remember aren't your targets all gentle intelligent beauties?"

John after hearing Sherlock's unstoppable firing, held his head, it's been a long time since he was last attacked by such Sherlock words, it's nauseous. But the first thing he needs to do is put things straight "Joan and I are just colleagues, plus he was the one that gave me this work opportunity. But—"

"Ha, so it's the old Chinese way of marrying your savior!" Sherlock couldn't wait for John to finish, he hurriedly cut him off.

"Sherlock!" John suddenly raised his voice, and pulled his most serious face out, "To the fact that you are still…alive, I'm very happy of course, Sherlock. But! How could you! You jumped off that building in front of me, then appear in front of me again with that obvious 'I'm alright, I'm fine' face! Did you know, that time, I was very, very sad, you were my best friend! Best Friend! The only one! And now you stand in front of me, like how I prayed in the past few weeks. But, you made my sadness, the hard times I went through in the past few weeks all a joke! Like an idiot! So stupid!"

After that, John buried his face in between his hands, and hid all his expressions inside the shadows

* * *

**A/N:** alright, here I present you chapter 4 of cross my heart, Sherlock came back, the story is walking onto the right track! It will be more exciting from here onwards. please R&R


	6. About questioning

**A/N: sorry for the long wait guys, still trying to explain things out, will get into main story very soon, probably next chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: about questioning**

After hearing what John had said, Sherlock's always-operating-at-high-speed brain had a moment's breakdown. He held up his hand as if to scratch his hair, but in mid air, Sherlock made a 'oh God' face to his palm.

Sherlock felt that the feeling of being 'questioned' by John is very terrible, it was like his organized brain palace had being shaken to pieces by a gratitude 9 earthquake. And this to him is an unusual feeling he had never felt before, John could always get him to experience things he had never felt before. As to this, Sherlock curled up in his black couch, his hands together into a tower in front of his mouth, sinking into his mind palace, he need to record this experience down, crimes nowadays are based more and more on 'emotions', the technical type was never main stream anyway.

John after he had calmed his mind, is waiting for Sherlock to give him an explanation. But when he looked up, he saw Sherlock sitting in his couch, his eyes blank, his expression solemn, the typical 'Sherlock style'.

John is waiting, waiting for Sherlock to speak first.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock kept the same posture, and the same expression.

15 minutes later, Sherlock stood up, he picked up the violin he left on the table before, then went back to his seat. His hands plucked the strings unconsciously, and he himself – John stared at Sherlock's expression – fell back into his mind palace once again.

* * *

Half an hour passed…

John felt that his idea of "making Sherlock explain" is just too foolish. He is sitting not even a meter away from Sherlock, the couch under his butt is facing straight at Sherlock, not even counting that his eyes are fixed on Sherlock.

But Sherlock whose nerve is so sensitive to "crimes, deductions, experiments" had not for one second realized John's killer eyes.

Shouldn't that person who is sitting opposite him deep in thought right now be apologizing and explaining everything to him after his roaring fit?

Oh, he forgot, that's a normal person's reaction. Sherlock is not normal, he is a high function anti societist. John felt that he had glorified Sherlock too much in his weeks of sadness, and seemed to have forgotten the troubles he had brought him.

John decided to end this quickly. After he get his answer he's going to sleep, he has work tomorrow, however Sherlock can sleep to however late he wants.

"So," John cleared his throat, signaling Sherlock to come out of his mind palace for a few moments, to solve a "human being's" problem, "how are you…not…dead, no, should be alright?"

John struggled with the word 'dead', he still couldn't forget the moment Sherlock jumped down from that roof. He was sure that Sherlock no longer had a pulse, even if his brain was in complete chaos and his emotions terrible, but he's a doctor, how can his experiences be wrong?

"Oh, that wasn't me." Sherlock said it as if he was simply describing that "the filling of the dumplings he just had was not pork."

"Not you?!" John's head short circuited for a moment when he had Sherlock's reply, he jumped out of his couch out of surprise. "How can it not be you, the same curly black hair, the same eyes, the same clothes, GOD! He is you! And those wounds, those blood."

John struggled to make sense.

"He really wasn't me, he was just some random person Mycroft found from somewhere," Sherlock shrugged as he explained, "You know Mycroft is the English Government itself, he can do anything. Plus John, evidence from blood samples is only valid if it had been laboratory tested and compared to the person's DNA sample in file. Pure eye detection and analysis can't tell you anything, I thought this is common sense, ."

"Sherlock, we are NOT talking about how to obtain evidence." John felt hopeless. "What we are talking about now, is you."

"Me? What about me?" Sherlock seemed confused.

"No, it's about you jumping off that building to be precise." John stopped for a second before continuing. "From now on, I'll ask and you'll answer, no useless information, understand?"

"Understood." This time Sherlock was smart enough to have noticed John's threatening eyes.

"Very good." John took a deep breath, looking at Sherlock's 'I'm a good boy' stance, he asked his first question.

"I saw you jump off with my own eyes."

"Oh John. Why don't you understand what you saw with your eyes, aren't necessarily true. I did jump, but I didn't jump off the building."

"What!?" John is struggling to understand, that's not jumping off the building?

Sherlock smirked narcissistically, "This need to be explained from the start. Moriarty's final purpose was to destroy my name, then the fake genius kills himself, look, what an amazing title."

"Oh, I know this, Sherlock fast forward." John hurried him.

"So 'Sherlock dies' is necessary. Moriarty used everything he can to make this come true. First of all, create chaos, letting everyone know that he has a 'key' that can open any program. Secondly, he 'gave' the key to me, maybe hoping that one of the assassins will kill me."

Sherlock laughed bitterly, "However Moriarty probably thought that killing me like this is no fun at all, so he decided to do it himself."

"So he used me, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade to threaten you?"

"Yes, so I must accept his threat, and jump off." Sherlock made the last conclusion.

John however doesn't seem to satisfy with this conclusion, "What do you mean and you jumped off! What about after you jumped off!"

John is about to go insane and Sherlock never talked about the important stuff.

"What about after I jumped off?" Sherlock repeated John's last question, then his face turned a weird colour, as if he just remembered something not very nice.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asked worriedly.

"No, it's nothing." Sherlock really doesn't want to tell John that the way he jumped off was slightly off from his calculations, and he got a concussion and felt dizzy for many days afterwards. And that annoying Mycroft grabbed the opportunity and sent him back to their dear mother. He was 'tortured' by dear mother so much that he had to escape through the window.

"What do you mean it's nothing, Sherlock! I'm asking you what did you use to ensure that you don't die after jumping off a building!"

"Oh, John, no one survived jumping off that building."

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled at him not being able to stay calm any longer.

"Alright, John." Sherlock made a surrender pose, "I'll tell you."

"I made Molly fake my death certificate." Sherlock talked in his super fast speed. "The night before I decided to die she asked me if there's anything she could help me with I was waiting for her to say this so I told her to make a dead me she completed all the procedures herself I don't know if Mycroft helped or not."

"But…but when I felt your pulse it felt like a real person…" John said to Sherlock.

"Of course it's a real person." Sherlock seemed to have grown a sudden interest in scorns, he grabbed a piece and studied it in his palm.

"Pffff—real person! From where!" John spouted out the milk tea he just drank after hearing Sherlock's explaination.

Luckily Sherlock reacted in time, and saved his favourite night gown from getting covered in milk tea.

"Be careful, John. As I have said, Mycroft found him, I don't know where he came from, only God know."

"Then when did you guys make the exchange?" That's what John couldn't understand, he saw Sherlock jumping off with his own eyes. It's the truth, no doubt.

"John, do you still remember when I called you, I told you not to move from that spot?"

John had a moment's pause, and nodded, "You did say that."

"That's a blind spot." Sherlock smirked his victor's smile. "That's a double blind spot, John. Not just to you, but to the assassin that was aiming at you."

John: "Assassin? Me?!"

Sherlock: "Yes, how naive of you to think that Moriarty's threats are merely words. Not just you, there's a traitor in Lestrade's office, the repairmen doing repairs for Mrs. Hudson, they are all pieces of Moriarty's plan, if I don't 'die', they will take action."

"What's with the blind spot?"

"From where you were standing you can clearly see me jumping down, but you can't see me falling on the ground." Sherlock thought for a moment, and then added, "Of course I know that if you saw me jump, you will definitely try to get over to me, so I got someone to crash into you to make sure that when you got up, the only thing you see is a nearly dead or dead Sherlock Holmes. Then that assassin will also think that I'm dead, since he was only focussing on you."

"Crash into me? What I saw?" After John heard Sherlock's answer, he can feel the negative feelings building up inside him, "What can't you just tell me?"

"No, John. I must ensure this place's secrecy. So, I can't tell you, I'm very sorry." Sherlock apologized sincerely.

"Alright, I accept your apology. But don't THINK ABOUT ESCAPING! Sherlock, I haven't finished yet." John warmed the slightly impatient Sherlock, who just started walking around in the room like an irritated cat.

Sherlock scratched his head, obviously irritated.

"Sherlock, no one has your brain, so give your idiotic friend more time." John said calmly, right now he just wants to figure out this 'faked death' thing.

Alright, Sherlock was slightly persuaded by John and sat back down into the sofa, he is glad to show off to his friend his amazing brain, and also willing to give John a little more patience.

John: "So you jumped down, and landed where?"

Sherlock: "The rubbish collecting truck, it was parked there, filled with air cushions.

John: "So you were just looking at me?"

Sherlock: "No, I think I lost consciousness, you know, concussion."

"Oh, that's good." John's voice was filled with relief. He thought if Sherlock was watching from the sides at his obvious I-am-a-lost-kid-I-don't-believe-this face, he will definitely look foolish.

"Then the person that impersonated you, is he alive?" John's questioned with hesitate, knowing Mycroft, if it's for his beloved brother, he might just…

"Of course he's alive, otherwise how did he roll over to that spot, and posed?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, offended by John's idiotic question.

"But, his pulse?" John's eyes fell on the tiny ball Sherlock suddenly got out of nowhere, he pressed it to the inside of his arm, signalling John to come forward, "you can try again."

John pressed his hand on Sherlock's wrist for his pulse, it's very very faint, an almost non-existent jump.

"So John, don't concluded that someone's dead if you can't feel his pulse, even when they are bashed in the head, you can't be sure they are dead unless they have been incinerated. It's only a pulse, there are many ways to conceal it. This is only one of the easiest ways. Using this tiny ball and press against the artery in the inner arm, forcefully stopping blood flow, will cause a decrease in pulse frequency. This is very easy to see through, dear John." Sherlock explained to John while he played catch with the little ball. *1*

"Thank you very much for supplying this doctor common sense, Sherlock." Why did John feel that Sherlock's hidden messenger it to mocking that he is not a qualified doctor?

"Then, anything else that need to be explained?" Sherlock asked.

John thought for a moment, and shook his head: "No more, Sherlock, you are free."

"Oh, great, then experiment, I need to do my experiment." Sherlock jumped up, and started to look around the room for his experimental equipments.

John stood up from the sofa and stretched his arms, he reckon the information he received today is a bit too much, considering his work tomorrow, John looked at his watch.

It's currently 8:24pm, yes, John felt it's time for some sleep, he has work at six tomorrow, he need to sleep early.

On the other side Sherlock is flipping the room upside down, muttering, "Oh my instruments, where have you gone?"

Walking towards his bedroom a thought flashed through John's head, he stopped and shouted at Sherlock, "Hey Sherlock, you still haven't told me where you went in the past few weeks!"

Hearing John's shouts, Sherlock's decision was to turn around and run downstairs, "Mrs. Hudson, where did you put my instruments? Mrs. Hudson!"

Obviously, Sherlock chose to ignore John's question.

* * *

**A/N: **

***1* about this ball stopping pulse thing, i just made it up and i don't know if it will actually work or not, so don't copy and don't try.**


	7. About work

**A/N: I'm working very hard at this! So please give me more power to continue by reviewing! pretty please~~n(*≧▽≦*)n **

* * *

**Chapter 6: about work**

It had been a while since John last had a nightmare free night, but he is not happy, because the reason he didn't have nightmares was because HE DID NOT SLEEP THE ENTIRE NIGHT!

God Sake!

John tried to fold his pillow up, burying his head inside, then put on his headphones, turning the volume up to maximum. But he still couldn't block out the noises that just kept flowing into his ear like his own shadow.

Jesus!

Just what dangerous experiments is Sherlock conducting in the kitchen, why are there chainsaw, electrical drill, and what's with that explosion just now!

Don't tell him the chain explosion at the bank he experienced yesterday morning was all Sherlock's work!

Is his next step bombing Downing Street?

Not getting enough sleep, John is in a very bad mood, flipping around in bed he struggles to find a way to tune out the noise. He opened his eyes irritated, staring up at the ceiling; he had already punched Sherlock a million times in his head.

The alarm clock on the bedside table went off, it's now 4:45am

"BOOM-!" another explosion, this time more powerful than before, the sound waves shook the ceiling and dust showered down.

Unluckily for John who was laying face up in bed, all the dust landed on his face.

"Pff, cough, cough." Coughing out the dust that went into his nose and wiping his face at the same time, he looked closely at his hand, there is a whole intact micro spider web!

John could feel the hair standing up on his arm, he's most afraid of spiders, and there is one hiding in his room right now, no, two or maybe even more. He decided that it's time to have a big clean done to his room.

John thought for a moment whether to thank Sherlock or not, if not for his explosion, the spider web would not have fallen down.

No, this might inspire another whole new experiment in Sherlock, John quickly deleted the thought in his head.

To avoid more dust falling onto his face, and there is no more time to stay in bed, John decided to get up.

Jumped out of bed, put on his slippers.

Ready to go wash up.

Running past the kitchen, there was a head on the table, Sherlock is crouching in front of the head, examining it with his magnifying glass

John got curious; he walked up to it, and saw, it's not a human head, but a dog's. "Hey Sherlock, where did you get this …dog head?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, turned around to John and said: "Oh, John, open your sleeping eyes and look carefully, this is not a dog head, it's a safe."

"A safe?" John looked at it one more time, who would make their safe into such a shape?

Sherlock stood up, put the dog headed safe under his arm and walked towards his sofa, "the person that designed this safe is a genius, the switch, where had he hidden the switch? Switch, switch, chainsaw doesn't work, drill doesn't work, explosives doesn't work, then there must be some sort of mechanism in this."

"So it was because of this that you made all those noises for the entire night?" John asked just before he walked into the bathroom.

Sherlock looked up a bit dazed, "Noise? I was noisy? How come I didn't notice?" He went straight back to his experiment.

5:20  
When John walked out of the bathroom, he discovered Sherlock bending on the floor, his head against the safe. And Sherlock's eyes, John swear, if Sherlock put more force into staring, his eyeballs would fall out into the eye socket of the dog headed safe in the next second.

John shook his head, and quickly made himself a sandwich for breakfast, he thought about asking Sherlock if he wanted one or not, but seeing how focused Sherlock was, he might just pretend he didn't hear, or make more requests at the chance.

So wanting to go to work safely today, John chose to shut his mouth.

"Oh, is this it?" Laying on the ground Sherlock seemed to have discovered something, he rolled into a sunny area with the head, and made sure once again under the light, then he carefully put the safe on his desk, and shouted "Mrs. Hudson, I need to borrow your needles and thread!" He ran downstairs.

John was curious, with the sandwich in his mouth, he picked the dog headed safe up to study.

"Oh, amazing." John exclaimed. Looking from the distant, it's very hard to see this as a safe, the front of this safe which is the dog head, was carved very carefully, so real, however at the back of the head where it was supposed to be empty, there is a very smooth surface merged with the rest of the head. "Looks like what was inside was put in through the mouth." John touched it from left to right, the surface is very smooth there wasn't even a single scratch, "Sherlock most likely tried all violent means."

John knocked on it, then let go of his hand and watched it fall onto the floor, he picked it up and stroked it again, smirking, "Hm, it's very sturdy."

Right this time, Sherlock came back with Mrs. Hudson's thread kit which he snatched from he, his eyes went from John's face to the dog head in John's hand, then back to John's face again. Sherlock frowned, and looked puzzled.

John was puzzled by Sherlock's expressions, he thought is something wrong?

Then John – reacted half a minute late – moved his eyes to the dog headed safe he was holding, then?!

John was surprised to see that the safe looked different, the laid back ears now stood up, there was red light shining from the eye socks, and bucktooth appeared in his closed mouth.

Sherlock walked over, taking over the angry dog headed safe, and asked John, "What did you do to it?"

John moved his mouth a couple times, not understanding a bit, "I dropped it, doesn't it count? Then I stroked it."

"Dropped it? Stroked it?" Sherlock repeated the actions like John said, only to discover that the dog head remained the same as before.

"John." Sherlock's voice was filled with displease.

John waved his hand to say that 'he really only dropped it and stroked it."

Looking at the Sherlock that kept shortening the distance between them, John had the feeling that he probably can't make it to work today.

"John, your cab's here!" Right that moment, Mrs. Hudson's voice came from downstairs.

John booked a cab last night.

John silently signed inside, Sherlock lost inside a puzzle is the hardest to solve, Mrs. Hudson's remainder was so in time.

5:45

John escaped into his taxi under Sherlock's death stares, and went to work.

* * *

6:10

St. Mary's hospital's treating room.

John started his day of work after saying hello to Dr. Smith

His first patient is a six year old girl, who got taken to hospital by her mother because she started getting a high fever in the middle of the night.

The little girl had unhealthy red cheeks, laying in her mother's arms, her eyes big and round, looking curiously at the setup inside the room.

"Had she been feeling weird lately?" John carefully asked the girl's mother.

"Oh, Rose said her throat hurt in the morning." The mother answered John's question.

Sore throat? John made a preassumption for the cause of the high fever.

"Then except this, anything else that's not feeling right?" The mother thought for a moment then shook her head.

John smiled warmly at the little girl, "Come on, open your mouth, ahhh." The girl opened her mouth and did what John told her.

As expected the girl's lymph nodes are swollen quite bad.

"Rose, are you allergic to penicillin?" John asked before giving out his prescription.

Rose's mother shook her head and said, "Rose is usually really health, oh, I can say this is her first time getting ill since she was born, so I'm not sure if she's allergic or not."

John: "Then let's do a skin test to make sure." Ripping off a piece of paper and handed it to the mother.

"It will be fine soon." John took out a candy Dr. Smith shoved into his pocket this morning, and gave it to the little girl as a treat.

* * *

7:30

Baker Street 221B second floor living room.

Sherlock lay face up on the sofa, holding the safe over his head. For it to change, Sherlock is very interested, he is waiting for John to reply to his text.

He has a feeling that John's answer must be the key to him unlocking this safe.

"It shouldn't be drop, then it must be touch?"

Sherlock started muttering to himself.

"From the time I got it, I have touched it at least a thousand times, how come John's touch made a difference?"

The dog's red eyes stared at Sherlock.

"Maybe you think John resembles you?"

"No no no, it must be a dog related touch!"

Sherlock reckons he had caught the correct train of thoughts, and quickly started to pick out all his knowledge about dogs from his brain bank, however sadly all the studies he had about this organism called a dog is about it's death and illness.

"John, look up how to raise dogs for me."

Sherlock had his eyes focused on the dog head and called out unconsciously.

But there was no expected sign and the sound of fingers clicking on the keyboard, what rang was his cell phone's text ringtone.

Sherlock rolled around, and discovered he's the only one in the room.

Only now did Sherlock remember John went to work, and just a few moments ago he was texting the working John.

After staring at his cell for five minutes, Sherlock discovered that no matter how much he threatened it with his eyes it will not grow legs and walk to him. So he finally got out of his coach and went to look at this phone, and he saw John writing: "Sherlock, I swear I only patted its head, scratched its chin, that's it."

Sherlock turned around towards the dog head on the coach, walked towards it, picked it up, and patted and scratched.

Still its big mouth stayed open, ears up, red eyes shining.

"John, this is USELESS!"

Sherlock used four exclamation marks to express his annoyance.

* * *

8:20

St. Mary's treating room.

"No! no it hurts, it hurts!" The patient sitting by the bed screamed in pain. He wants to touch his ankle which just got put back in place, but seems wary at the thought.

This is John's fifth patient; he dislocated his ankle while walking.

With this kind of patient, John first gets them to sit by the bed, and then starts to make a conversation, and when their attention had started to move away, he makes the move.

* * *

9:24

Baker Street 221B upstairs living room.

At this time Sherlock is staying the dog's teeth one by one with his magnifying glass, 42 teeth, "Not a puppy, oh, something's carved on it!"

He had just discovered some light carvings on the dog's teeth, but not in any normal order.

Sherlock wrote the letters down on a piece of paper, the most sensible sentence he can get in the end was: What was my most wanted gift? Remember! Three chances!

"Only three chances?" Sherlock moved his hand up to his chin, and raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting!"

* * *

10:56

St. Mary's treating room.

Nurse Nancy made John a cup of coffee, there's currently no tenth patient.

John started to look through the files of the patients he needed to see later on his room rounds.

Took out his cell and saw a messenger, Sherlock's new text said: "John, I'm hungry."

John signed and made a call to Mrs. Hudson.

* * *

11:28

Baker Street 221B upstairs

One sleepless night, brain working at high power for a whole morning, eating one plate of fried dumpling, the empty stomached Sherlock now lay there in his coach, still thinking about the hint he got on the teeth.

Sherlock had already used one chance.

He found a bone in the fridge and put it towards its mouth, Sherlock thought this will cause the dog mouth to open, however the dog only barked at him twice.

"Unbelievable! Are you laughing at me?" Sherlock stared at the dog head, "I can't believe I got laughed at by Moriarty's dog head!"

The later thought was hard for him to accept.

But he is hungry, a hungry Sherlock can only lay on his coach, he doesn't have enough stamina to hold anger that could possibly burn whole of London down.

* * *

12:14

St. Mary's treating room.

John's last patient for the morning.

The couple had a fight, the angry wife smashed a beer bottle at her poor husband. The wife was still crying when they walked in.

John stood by the side, after he had bandaged up the bloody wound that looked scary but in fact is only a small cut, watching the husband comforting his wife.

John thought inside, luckily his choice of a wife had always been from the gentle type.

* * *

13:43

Baker Street 221B upstairs kitchen.

After eating the lunch Mrs. Hudson brought up, Sherlock started to a conversation with her, the topic is: dogs

* * *

14:16

St. Mary's ER corridor

John started to take his rounds in the ER

Main observing area was the patients from the chain explosion, he bumped into Lestrade. Lestrade came to take testimonies from the patients, and had a look at the patient still in coma in ICU which he reckons is an important thread.

* * *

15:36

Baker Street 221B upstairs kitchen.

Sherlock got a lot of information from Mrs. Hudson about how to raise dogs.

He even used the dog head safe as a prop, and invited Mrs. Hudson to demonstrate, what she means by "an action filled with love and trust."

"Wolf!"

Only one more chance left.

* * *

16:50

On the way home.

John got kicked out of the treating room by Dr. Smith with the reason "over time", he finally realised it's time for him to go home.

He handed in his work pass at the services desk, and tried to invite the head nurse Mabel to Saturday's movie, got rejected, reason: I'm married, my child is 3."

ON his way home he went to Sherlock's favourite Chinese restaurant and brought his favourite noodles and milk.

* * *

17:20

Sherlock yelled at John who just got home, "Hello, John, how did work go?"

"Fine, I can cope. How's your work?" John handed the noodles to Sherlock, then put the milk into the fridge.

"NO, BORING!" Sherlock looked at John with sparkly eyes.

John looked up at the ceiling, remembered this morning, and wanted to escape again.

* * *

A/N: yes yes I know this chapter is such a drag, but the foundation really need to be laid well before anything can be built on top right? right? o(*≧▽≦)ツ see you next time, don't forget to review! your reviews are well appreciated!


	8. About the song

**A/N：**With finals coming up in a few days I know I shouldn't be writting, but it had been such a long time since I last wrote I just couldn't resist, I hope this chapter makes sense though, I am starting to get into the main story, it won't be long I promise! n(*≧▽≦*)n now enjoy

* * *

**Chapter 7: about the song**

John signed and took over the dog headed safe Sherlock handed him.

"Only one chance left, are you sure?"

Before putting his hands on the dog head, John asked one last time.

"No problem, John. I already checked the whole safe with the scanner, it's not explosive, no flammable liquid, all it has is this puzzle and its stability."

John: "Maybe it has some other weird system?"

"And you think I won't know about this weird system if it has one?" Sherlock grabbed John's hand and put it on top of the dog. "John, repeat once again what you did this morning."

Sherlock crossed his hands, and stared at John.

John was hesitating; he felt he shouldn't use this one last chance, it felt wrong. Maybe Mycroft should give it a try.

Sherlock had no choice but to give John his speculations just to persuade him. "Even if Mycroft did come, it will still result in failure. I experimented, John's body temperature is higher than a normal person by 2 degrees, and however I and Mrs. Hudson even Mycroft all belong to the cold side. This safe is covered with a material that's similar to bone, but it's actually a temperature senser, people with a low body temperature will have no effect on it no matter what they do. So…" Sherlock took a deep breath, "Feel it up, John."

Feel it up? John complained silently at Sherlock's choice of words. John closed his eyes trying to recall, then treated it like a real dog, patted its head and scratched its chin. He smiled gently and murmured, "Good boy!"

The red light that emitted from the eye socket of the dog headed safe changed from red to green; the dog opened its mouth wide, and finally giving up the treasure it had kept for so long.

"Oh it has voice control too! Good job John!"

Like a little child with his new toy, Sherlock couldn't wait one more second to try the treasure he got out of the safe.

"Another mystery to be solved, this is so fascinating."

Sherlock studied the box he got out of the safe, it's a rubic's cube, the squares equally divided on the surface all had different symbols and words printed.

"Rubic's cube? Isn't this too easy, Sherlock?" John looked at the cube, wanting to laugh, even John himself can solve it easy.

"No, John, this is not the type of rubic's for young children. It's a coded lock."

Sherlock placed the lock under the scanner, the screen instantly showed its complicated inside structure.

"This should be a bomb, if the wrong square is moved will lead to an explosion." Sherlock pointed to the centre which had been marked with a skull on the monitor and said to John.

John struggled to find a way out in the complicated design of the lock, he squirted his eyes trying to find a clue, but of course he gave up.

"Oh this is more complicated than human blood vessels, Sherlock."

John decided to that it's time to enjoy his dinner, he's starving.

"John, if blood vessels are the limited to your intelligence, then how unfortunate a brain you have." Sherlock had the spare mind to answer John's statement even while he studied the design with his magnifying glass.

John choked on Sherlock's words, he mumbled, "Can't help it, I'm John Watson, not Sherlock Holmes."

Holding his knife in hand, Johns started to enjoy his beautiful food, while watching Sherlock basically sticking his face on the screen.

Sherlock is working very hard, but who does that thing belong to?

That's right! Sherlock hadn't told him who that damn safe belongs to! For God's sake, what if it's another one of those troublesome things!

Can the officially 'dead' Sherlock die for a second time?

"Sherlock, you still haven't told me who that safe belongs to!" John shouted at Sherlock angrily completely ignoring the fact that he still had food in his mouth.

Sherlock simply waved him off.

"Sherlock!" John strode over to Sherlock, forcefully turned him around, and asked again word by word: "Whose safe is this!"

Sherlock attempted to move his eyes back to the screen, choosing to ignore John's obvious anger.

They stared at each other for 5 minutes.

John finally gave up and took his hands away from Sherlock. Sherlock cheerfully dived for the screen, ready to continue his study of the secret lock, however only one look, and the screen went black.

Sherlock stood up to check for the problem, only to see John looking at his with the plug in his hand.

So looks like John pulled the plug out of anger.

Luckily he didn't pull the switch to the whole power supply.

Sherlock saw that John is actually angry, he laid his hands on his knees, sat by the dinner table with his back straight.

"Sherlock, don't give me that 'I'm a good boy' look, this time I won't let you escape my question again!"

John held the plug tight in his hand, and pulled a chair to sit in front of Sherlock.

"Now, one on one answer, no lying, don't try to fool me. If you fool me, don't you ever want to do any more experiments in 221B."

Sherlock nodded, expressing his understanding.

"Last time I asked you, during the time of your 'death' where did you go? Is that how you obtained this safe?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Where did you go?"

Sherlock nodded.

"I want an answer."

Sherlock nodded.

John pressed his temples very hard, trying his best to stay calm: "Sherlock, no matter what you are trying to hide, this time you must tell me, the truth! Jesus! Do you really want to jump off a building for the second time and really lying in a grave before telling me?"

"This is dangerous, John." Sherlock told him very seriously, "Since that case last time, I think I should keep some distance…between us."

Sherlock scrubbed his hair out of annoyance, "Mycroft said, I need to have some self awareness. Uh, what I think is interesting however may not seem that interesting to most normal people."

Sherlock remembered the period when he was resting in bed, the file Mycroft sent him, it listed in detail all the dangerous personae Moriarty had placed around John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Even if Sherlock he himself is one that can put danger out of his mind, that doesn't mean he doesn't care about the safety of the people he regard as friends.

So he chose to take Mycroft's advice, keep silent about his own 'death', then went to look for Moriarty's remaining confederates, until he discovered that every single thread points to London.

After a deep discussion with Mycroft, he appeared in front of John.

John stared at Sherlock in shock after hearing what he had just said

In the next second, he made a reaction to Sherlock's words. He pulled Sherlock out of his chair, pulled him to the desk in the lounge, opened the draw, took out something and put it into Sherlock's hand, and said to him, "What is this?"

Sherlock opened the box in his hand, had a look and chucked it back at John, "Victoria Cross, highest military decoration of the British Army, since its introduction in 1856 only 1354 people had received it."

John: "So please tell me where you had gone."

Sherlock: "John, even if you are a recipient of the cross, it doesn't mean anything, this is no longer the battlefield, John."

John started at Sherlock's eyes, serious: "Sherlock, look, I came back from the battlefield, and received the Cross of the highest decoration. Is there any place other than the battlefield that places more threat on life than the battlefield? None. I just want to tell you, no matter what trouble you got yourself into, even if I'm not your friend, as a soldier, I will protect you. Let alone you are my single best friend."

"John, I…"Sherlock wanted to say something only to be cut short by John: "If you don't agree to what I had just said, I will get Mrs. Hudson, I'm sure she'll be able to convince you with her chatters."

Sherlock looked at John, looked at the expression in his eyes, it had something in there that says nothing will be able to crush his determination.

Sherlock chose to surrender, he doesn't want Mrs. Hudson to come up, once everyday of Mrs. Hudson's chatter is his limit. Today's chance had already been used.

"Alright, John. I'll tell you what you want to know.

* * *

"After three days rest, I went after Moriarty's partners." After gaining permission from John, Sherlock held the lock in his hand, telling his story while studying it.

"Then the result?" John asked.

"I found this safe in one of Moriarty's secret base in America. After losing their leader, the remaining confederates are like sand." Sherlock consciously skipped the dangerous details that occurred in the middle.

"Like sand? So they had all been caught?"

"…Most of them."

"What does that pause mean?" John's intuition is tell him that Sherlock is hiding something from him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, not surprised that John will ask him. "Alright, the only trouble is that I don't know how many confederates Moriarty actually have."

"You don't know? That's impossible, there should be some sort of list shouldn't there?"

"None." Sherlock replied a single word.

John was surprised at this fact, "None!"

"Maybe there once was one. The lastest news from Mycroft was how many people there are in their organization, only Moriarty and his assistant knows."

"Where is his assistant then?"

Sherlock didn't answer this question, he held up the lock instead. John was suddenly enlightened, "That's from the assistant?"

"Yes, after I finally caught his trace, he left me this safe. And it's a dog head, I wonder if he's mocking me saying that I'm like a police dog sniffing after him not letting go."

Sherlock looked down on the safe, his lips curving into a scorn, "but I will solve this very soon, and catch him."

"I believe you." After that, John plugged the scanner back on.

Running towards the dinner table turned laboratory table, Sherlock returned to John a slight smile, "I believe in myself more than you do me."

* * *

John picked up the cold noodles beside him and started to eat.

After dinner, he sat in front of his desk and started to write in his blog, carefully noting down everything that happened at work today. He didn't mention a single word about Sherlock.

For how many night had he lived like this.

Sherlock forcibly occupying the kitchen, using it as his laboratory, doing experiments.

John sitting by his desk, writing his blog, and sometimes teasing Sherlock's ignorant "common sense"

An only nursery rhyme started to play.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady. Build it up with iron bars, iron bars, iron bars. My fair lady."

This nursery rhyme is almost a must learn of every single English person in their childhood.

John looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock is holding in his hand a little music box, the song came from it.

"You opened the lock, Sherlock." John felt happy for his friend, solving a complicated problem in such little time. Maybe for Sherlock this couldn't even be counted as a 'problem'.

However there is not a trace of joy on Sherlock's face.

"John, can you contact Lestrade? I think this time Lestrade will be very thankful that I'm still 'alive'."

* * *

**A/N**: See you next chapter!


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